Fairyland Mafia
by Ginki
Summary: In which Mercedes is in the friggin' mafia. I am so sorry. AU Crackfic, obviously. Or just straight-up AU, depending on your opinion of AUs in general.
1. In Which Mercedes Holds a Gun

A/N: I have no idea what possessed me to write this, nobody even put me up to it, ahahaha. I'll blame it on the alignment of the planets. What made me think, "Mercedes should totally be in the Mafia?" anyway? I think I've been playing too much of that Mafia Wars game on Facebook. (Although this obviously means there needs to be a chapter named "In Which Mercedes Robs a Pimp," because that is _the_ most hilarious job.)

Still waffling on whether or not it's a good idea to upload this.

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**Fairyland Mafia**

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It was only within the past month that Mercedes had officially learned how to use a gun. In reality, she had been using them since she was able to hold herself upright, and she wasn't quite sure why her mother was just now condoning her use of them. After all, she was still below the legal age limit for such things.

In any case, her mother smiled and said she looked darling with her braids and her gun holster strapped onto her belt. And she did, if one ignored the cognitive dissonance of seeing a thirteen-year-old girl so close to a firearm and be completely comfortable with it.

This gun had been a gift, Mercedes remembered, that she had received for no particular reason from her mother. This was always the gun that she had stolen from her mother's store of them, and one day, she decided to simply give her the weapon. That was also when Mercedes official training had begun.

When her mother asked to see how well she was honing her ability to handle her gun, Mercedes didn't spare any time before flipping the latch on her holster and holding her arms out to fire at the target across the room. Though the kickback was nothing to scoff at, and the weapon felt heavy in her hands, her aim was flawless, three rounds into the center of the target.

With just as much efficiency, she put her gun back in its holster, and turned to face her mother, whose finger was placed to her lips in an expression of solemn concentration. This didn't seem to stop Mercedes from immediately questioning her, "So? I'm ready to go."

"No, my dear, you cannot, not yet."

Mercedes looked genuinely shocked by this information, immediately retorting with, "Mother, I can fight! If you're on the front lines, then I want to be by your side!"

Her mother simply shook her head and bent down on her knees to be at eye level with her daughter, "Mercedes, you know why that is impossible," but her daughter's pouting face showed that she would be forced to explain again. Not that her mother particularly minded, even after all this time.

"I'm better than your goons!" Mercedes protested before another word could escape past her mother's lips, "You know I am! So why..."

"Because, my child, you're the one who's been trusted to carry on after I'm gone. It can only be you, Mercedes."

But the task of carrying on the family legacy wasn't quite what Mercedes had in mind. And at the next raid, Mercedes was not at all prepared for what she was about to see.

***

Ingway's life had ceased to be interesting.

Not that it was ever particularly interesting to begin with. He still lived with his sister out in the boonies, working as a doctor at an infrequently visited hospital. There were quite a lot of tiny towns in the surrounding area that depended on the place in extreme emergencies, but it was hardly a booming business. This particular hospital, however, got some compensation from the government for taking care of such a wide area. That didn't change much of anything, though.

Even now, there was likely not more than a grand total of seven people in the entirety of the building, including Inway himself.

One was Mr. Fairaway, who had broken his leg the other day, along with his wife, sobbing next to him though the procedure of realigning the bone and applying the cast had long since been finished successfully. Even Mr. Fairaway himself was starting to look a bit embarrassed.

The other couple was of course, his sister and her boyfriend. What was his name, Cornelius? Ingway did make a point of not being amused by the names of others, considering his own, but not so deep in the back of his mind, he felt that "Cornelius" was an even more ridiculous name than Ingway.

In any case, the man was still trying to get into his sister's metaphorical pants. Metaphorical in the sense that he hadn't seen his sister wear anything that wasn't a skirt that came so far up her thighs that he sometimes wondered if she simply forgot to get dressed on that particular day.

They had come to tell him that they were getting married, and that was simply _fantastic._

The last two were quite a confusing case, and something Ingway was far more willing to think about than the prospect of his sister actually marrying the foreign-born casanova (because while Cornelius didn't see himself that way, of course Ingway viewed him like that), was a little girl, surely not older than thirteen, who had still not woken up. The other man, her grandfather, if his words were to be trusted, had brought the girl in the night, just before shifts were about to change, wailing that she needed to be saved.

Ingway had removed ten bullets from the little girl's body.

After the operation was complete and it was certain that the girl would pull through, he looked to the old man for answers as to how such a thing had happened, but the man simply pulled his hat further down over his eyes, saying that he would explain once the girl woke up, and money was no object, if that was what the issue was.

So nobody knew that they were there, and the girl had stayed asleep for two days now. Nobody knew, especially the two lovebirds in front of him.

"And so, we may be gone for a long time, but I didn't want you to be worried," Velvet explained. He was very much aware of the situation, though, he didn't need it explained to him again. In fact, he was wondering when something like this would happen. While he didn't approve, he had already had tried to get Cornelius to kindly get the hell away from his sister, and it was not to be. He finally accepted defeat, and his sister was all the more joyous for it, and sometimes it was hard to hate the guy after realizing how happy he made his sister.

He was still as insufferable as the day he had met him, though.

"My father still does not approve, you see," Cornelius continued, "but Velvet and I are very much in love, and not even my father will be able to prevent me from doing this." The,_ 'neither will you, Ingway,'_ part was implied.

Ingway merely sighed and gave them little more than an, "I wish you well," before coaxing them out of the hospital. He was certain that he'd see them again soon enough.

He used the same only slightly rude farewell on the Fairaway couple, who really did need to get going already. But he stopped as he reached the door of the girl, wondering if there really had been complications to the procedure. If hadn't seemed like it at the time, but they didn't get too many gunshot wounds this far out into the country (they were practically living in the woods, after all) so simply out of lack of experience, he wondered if two days was really a reasonable timeframe for healing after so many bullet wounds and subsequent surgery.

So, as he opened the door, he expected to see a sad, pathetic sight; a poor girl, still practically comatose, with only the steady rise and fall of her chest to indicate that she was still alive. Her grandfather would be there too, looking as solemn as ever.

What he had not expected to see was this same girl, who was half-dead when he checked on her this morning, huffing and puffing and gripping her IV stand like a cane, giving him a face full of gun.

"What…" she wheezed, still somehow managing to look fearsome despite her size, "Did you do."


	2. In Which Mercedes Doesn't Die

**In Which Mercedes Doesn't Die**

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Chapter two! It's still weird as all get out! And yet still incredibly fun to write!

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Mercedes is six months old, a chubby little baby in her mother's arms.

"Isn't it worrisome, Elfaria, that your husband has not yet returned?"

Elfaria's expression does not change in response to her sister's words. She merely winds a bit of her daughters blonde hair between her fingers, only beginning to smile gently as Mercedes coos at her, making a face that might have been caused by happiness or gas. You really can never tell with babies.

Mercedes is two and a half, and she still waddles like a drunk penguin. She spends more time scooting along the floor than she does on her feet. It's an awkward, silly-looking mode of transportation, but it gets the job done.

"No, no," her mother says calmly from the living room, "If he doesn't pay, you know what must be done."

Mercedes clambers up the gate barring her area from the rest of the house, still needing support if she were to walk upright. Somehow flipping herself over the top and making a perfect landing on the balls of her feet before promptly flopping down on her bum and bursting into tears.

Mercedes is five, and she finds the gun that her mother keeps in the drawer of her nightstand. And the one in the pantry. And the one in the back of the refrigerator.

"Thank you, I'm very impressed you were able to find all of these."

It's not much of an explanation, but Mercedes truly loves and respects her mother. Surely, if it was of true importance, she would have it explained to her.

Mercedes is eight and she's awfully bored of firing the stolen pistol in the woods behind their house. She gets lonely sometimes, but that's bound to happen when your only constant friend is a firearm. She had never been enrolled in a normal school, her mother's and grandfather's lessons sufficed for her education.

"Hello, my name is Melvin. I'm your cousin, Mercedes, though it has been a while since we've seen each other."

Melvin seems like an asshole, but Mercedes thinks that in not so many words. She hopes he's trustworthy enough to let into her woods, but she ends up letting him tag along with her, and eventually grows to like him, just a little bit. After all, no little girl really wants to be lonely.

Mercedes is twelve and she already knows. She doesn't really mind, either, after all, these people were already relying on shady methods to begin with. She likes to think that her mother isn't a cold-blooded murderer, though, even if her enemies think that.

"Now, Mercedes, remember this, because it is very important."

Mercedes is thirteen and she can see a pinpoint of light through the gunshot wound in her mother's skull before it fills with blood.

Mercedes is thirteen and she wakes up.

* * *

Ingway didn't' quite know what to make of this tiny tyrant yelling at him, but his instincts as a medical professional told him that this probably wasn't the greatest thing for this girl to be doing (whoever she was.)

"Why don't you lay back down now, alright?"

He was trying to ignore the pistol pointed in aimed between his eyes, but if he told himself enough times that it was a toy, or that it was empty, it made the task marginally easier.

"I asked you a question."

Surprisingly, the girl's hands weren't shaking at all ('_That's right, Ingway, focus on her hands, not the gun._') Shouldn't she be suffering the effects of all the blood she had lost? It was nothing to scoff at, especially considering how petite she was.

"I saved you," he explained, "Your grandfather brought you here begging me to help you, and that's exactly what I'm doing. Now, if you'll lay back down, this whole process would be a lot easier."

Still wary like a feral cat, the girl inched backwards, getting back onto the bed while still holding him at gunpoint. It wasn't exactly a desirable situation, but it had turned a little bit more in Ingway's favor.

"That being said," he continued, still acting as though the gun didn't phase him at all, "are you feeling any better?"

"I'm… I'm fine," she replied, finally dropping the gun to her side and clutching her torso with her free hand, obviously not fine.

"Well, so long as that holds true…" he said, moving towards the door to call the police, because surely they would know how to deal with a gun-toting preteen. The closest police station was the intercity one, wasn't it? They dealt with insane, gun-wielding kids like this all the time, surely.

"You can't call the police," the girl said, staring back at him.

And this did catch the man off-guard, "I… I had no intention of doing so, young lady," Ingway was trying to grin nonchalantly, he really was, but it probably looked more like a grimace than anything else.

"You can't, because I can't afford the police getting involved right now," the girl looked downwards, with a look of anguish that contrasted horribly with her tiny little face.

"This does not convince me at all," Ingway muttered before the girl shot him a look that could certainly give even the most indifferent of buffalo a heart attack.

"A month."

"I… what?"

"Give me a month, doctor. Everything will come to light by then, and then the police are more than welcome to get involved, but for now…" her grip seems to tighten on the firearm, and Ingway almost wants to tell her to stop, for christsakes, that's a gun and you can't possibly be older than thirteen.

Ingway restrains himself.

"For now, I have to…" it seemed as though the girl would never finish the sentence, and Ingway put on his doctor-face in the offbeat.

"For now, you have to rest," and against all better judgment, he walks towards the girl, seemingly in an attempt to coax her to lay down again.

"Promise me, please," the girl pleads with him, hand outstretched and pinky finger raised expectantly. Ingway nearly laughs. For all her seriousness (and firearms) this girl is… really just that. A little girl.

He hooks his pinky finger around hers, and something that might be a genuine smile crosses his face, something that hadn't happened since who knows when.

"Yes, okay. I promise."

* * *

Doctor Urzur was kind of a douchebag.

He may very well have been the head of medicine for the entire conglomeration of the hospitals which Ingway was employed by, but this was a fact that remained, Doctor Urzur was kind of a douchebag.

"Ingway, my boy," for one thing, he prefaced all of his sentences like this. It hadn't bothered Ingway in the beginning, Ingway had a bit more self-confidence than that, but it did become grating after hearing it seventy-or-so times, "We have much to discuss."

Honestly, Ingway hadn't expected a visit from the head of medicine today, or at all. Urzur usually sent notices months in advance for his annual visitations to every hospital under his supervision. This was entirely out of the blue, and out of character for Urzur to do something like this.

"What is it?"

"Word has it that you are keeping a girl here without filling out the proper paperwork, Ingway, my boy."

It seemed that surprises kept coming from this old man. Rarely did Urzur care if there was a delay in paperwork, and the girl had only come in yesterday, by most people's standards.

There was definitely something different. Was it desperation, in his tone of voice? What could possibly fluster someone like Urzur to this extent? Though Ingway didn't really care to think on the subject for too long.

"Ah, yes, I'll be processing that soo—"

"I do not care about the processing of paperwork, that girl should be dead. Why is she not?"

Ingway had no remarks to make.

Usually, he had some bitingly witty comment that he could make, at least in his head. It was all that ever got him through the annual meetings with this same man.

But he had nothing.

"I hardly see…"

"Go back in that room and kill her, Ingway. Make it look like an accident."

How in the world was he supposed to react to that?! This defied everything he had ever learned, morals, ethics, common sense. This man was insane, perhaps, but what in the world was that girl connected to that made him so desperate to kill her?

"If you value your job, your life, and your family, you will do as I say."

And Ingway did value all of these things, of course. And with a nod of his head, he walked into the room the girl was still sleeping in. There was never really a decision to be made, was there? He didn't fail to notice the grim smirk on Urzur's face as he closed the door behind him, though.

The room was exactly as he had left it, with the girl sleeping soundly, her chest rising and falling steadily. There was no way, there was never any choice to be made. There were probably better ways to do this, but Ingway had always wanted to play the hero, for once in his life.

Ingway woke the girl up and as quietly as he could, explained that she would definitely get out of here, because there was a crazy old guy after her head.

She looked confused, and it was probably justified, but at least she hadn't aimed her gun at him again.

"We're leaving."

Ingway wasn't sure what prompted him to fling the girl over his shoulder and jump out the window. He wasn't usually very impulsive, but for some reason, at this very moment, it seemed like an urgent necessity. And while he was finally playing the hero to a poor girl, he had no idea what he had just thrown himself in the middle of.


	3. In Which Mercedes Makes Her Vow

**In Which Mercedes Makes Her Vow**

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**YOU GUYS WHY ARE YOU READING THIIIIS IT MAKES ME WANT TO WRITE MORE OF THIS AND THAT IS TERRIBLE. D:

I-I honestly didn't expect to get reviews from anyone other than SorasKey because I basically told her to do so. S-So uh. Thanks guys! ;A; I'll try to make this and future chapters at least kind of worth reading!

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Ingway had just graduated, and the whispers had already started.

'_Why would an orphan chose such a career?'_

It was ridiculous, but for a while, Ingway thought that, because it was him, the opinion of people would change. Because isn't that always the case? Things will be different so long as oneself is part of the equation. Nothing too bad could every possibly happen to you. But the belief was totally unfounded, as it always is. Ingway was just another doctor.

'_It's all just knives and blood and death. I hardly trust doctors.'_

And in this day and age, it was those beliefs that were founded. Doctors really couldn't be trusted, could they? They held lives in the balance, and who would really trust something to precious to a person with a scalpel who had read a few books, passed a few tests?

'_It's as though they're going against the natural order of things.'_

That was all Ingway's life had led up to. Being ridiculed for becoming a doctor. It was pretty much par for the course, though. It wasn't as though he had been successful at anything else in his life. He'd always been skilled, and at least reasonably intelligent, but he hadn't even been truly successful, ever.

'_The only people who are appreciative of that kind of profession are…'_

So perhaps someday he'd be employed by the mafia.

***

Ingway was usually considerably better about thinking ahead. In fact, it was something his sister used to remind him about before she accepted it as just a part of his personality.

"Ingway, calm down, you don't have to do everything," she would say. But that was a lie. Ingway did have to do everything, because how else was he supposed to insure that it would be done correctly? But even so, he expected better of himself than tossing a girl over his shoulder and jumping out the window.

Being on the first floor didn't put much distance between him and the apparently mad doctor, but Ingway managed to get the girl and himself far enough into the woods that he was fairly certain they wouldn't be caught right away.

Thankfully, this girl hadn't put up much of a fuss when Inway swept her off her feet, but now that the moment had ended, she seemed to be up in arms about the whole mess. And if nothing else, it was a mess.

"What in the world was that all about?!" the breathless girl finally managed to speak. And Ingway honestly couldn't come up with a decent reply. Oh, I just didn't want my boss forcing me to murder you, that's all, didn't really come across very well. He still wasn't sure of this girl's circumstances, but it hardly seemed fair to kill her for no good reason.

"Well, it's a rather complicated situation," Ingway decided on.

"For the both of us," the girl sighed, clutching her side worriedly. Ingway did hope she wasn't in too much pain.

"My grandfather took me away before I could do something very important. I need to return to the city," the girl said, getting up.

"No, you need to rest."

The girl looked as disdainful as her cherubic little face could express, with a, "says the man who practically tossed me out the window."

He just sighed, and the girl's face wrinkled with distaste once again. She knelt down, coming eye-to-eye with the still-seated Ingway.

"My name is Mercedes Ringford. Odin and his gang murdered my mother, and I'm going to kill him."

There was nothing but silence for a while. How in the world was Ingway supposed to react to that statement? Honestly, this girl was full of surprises, if nothing else. Ingway had thought he was doing right in saving this girl, or Mercedes, as she'd introduced herself, but now it seemed that he had just saved a prospective murderer.

"I'm going to kill him, doctor."

And it was then he noticed there were tears in her eyes. Somewhere within the words, 'I'm going to kill him,' Ingway again forgot that she was a little girl. But even now, he did nothing more than sigh.

"Well, your eye-for-an-eye tactics will hardly bring your mother back, now will they?"

Tough love, Ingway. Way to be.

"That's not the point! It's my job to carry on her legacy!" Mercedes shouted, and Ingway hoped to all the powers that be that they really were far enough away that Urzur couldn't hear them.

"You don't understand!" Mercedes shouted, "Y-You just…"

"Mercedes," he stated bluntly, looking upwards towards her, as she was still standing, "if you confront these people in your current state, regardless of who you are or who they are, you will die."

And now it was her turn to fall silent.

"And I doubt that would be what your dear mother would want."

This whole ordeal probably would have been more of a shock to Ingway if he had ever lived in the city. Not knowing of the Ringford family, or the Ragnanival gang, was a bit of an issue, and the words he chose may have been vastly different had he known the circumstances.

Either way, Mercedes bit her bottom lip and looked away, and Ingway realized he really didn't know how to deal with kids.

"Well, I suppose seeing as we have to be heading in a direction, the city is as good a place as any," he said, finally getting up, realizing for the first time just how big the height difference between the two of them was. Beforehand, that fact had been either distracted by her lying down, pointing a gun at him, or being carried.

She looked at him with a hopeful glint in her eyes that silently thanked him, and the words were spoken as well, "Thank you, doctor."

"Ah, I suppose I haven't introduced myself properly, have I? I am Ingway."

"Ingway… It's a pleasure to meet you."

Well, at least this little potential murderer had manners. He nodded at their belated greeting, and then said, "However, you are still injured, and my conscience as a doctor will not permit me to let you walk."

"Huh?"

"Please allow me to carry you on my back," He said as he kneeled down in front of her. He probably shouldn't be doing this, as she still had a gun, but really, what else was he living for at this point? His existence, honestly, had lost most of it's meaning. His family was all dead, and his dear sister didn't need him anymore thanks to that Casanova, and all the people he cared for either begrudgingly came due to government mandates, or were named Mrs. Fairaway. So what was the point in not going all out, since he had already dived into this ordeal head first.

Silently, Mercedes climbed onto Ingway's back, and he was surprised that she hardly weighed a thing, even without the adrenaline pumping through his veins.

Almost as though she had wings.

***

"I fear she has escaped with him," Urzur whined.

"No matter, Odin's gang will defeat her soon enough."

"Will you intervene?"

"There is no need, she's already done for. But do tell me, who is 'he?'"

"One of mine. A doctor."

Then he is the one that should be dealt with. Oswald."

A third voice, "yes?"

"Kill him."


	4. In Which Mercedes Gets Away

**Chapter 4 – In Which Mercedes Gets Away**

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**I started playing Mafia Wars on Facebook again. I guess you can blame that for more of this. xD;;;

But I am glad at least some of you are enjoying this! I'm really sorry I didn't update for such a long time, but things have been getting in the way of my writing, like massive writer's block and tests and college and aaaaaaaaa.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy! :V

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They, or rather, Ingway, had been walking for a while now, only punctuated by Mercedes talking. She seemed to know these woods better than even he did, despite the fact that he was the native to this area. She would often say things like, "Where the heck are you going?!" and point in the opposite direction. It would have been adorable if he weren't carrying her on his back.

But he supposed that couldn't be helped. He had gotten into this situation of his own accord, desperate for his own adventure, or something along those lines. Really, what was he thinking?

"There's the place that I was talking about," Mercedes said from behind him, pointing a ways off in the distance toward what appeared to be an abandoned factory. They were clearly on the outskirts of the city by now, and Ingway vaguely wondered how long they had actually been walking.

"Is that so," he commented.

"Yes. Mother used this place for storage, but she only told those in our immediate family about it. We'll be fine if we stay here for the night."

Ingway would have shrugged if he wasn't still carrying her. In the time that she had been talking, she often brought up her mother. Unfortunately, the significance of Mercedes' speeches was still lost on him.

Ingway had always lived in the country. In fact, he was born in the village he currently (well, previously had) worked as a doctor. He knew for a fact that the Medical Center was the most modern building in the vicinity. How was he supposed to have known that the Ringford name was one of the most reviled and celebrated in all of the city? News was slow in the middle of the woods.

As for Mercedes, she found herself fascinated by this man who knew nothing of her background, not even blinking when she told him her name. Anyone else would have either laughed (few even knew that Elfaria had a daughter, and it wasn't likely that they'd believe her outright) or begged for mercy (the Ringford family was notoriously ruthless in battle.)

His indifference almost made her want to frighten him, tell him the stories that her mother had told her about what it meant to be in the Mafia. But if he did know, would he cease to help her? She didn't have anyone else on her side at the moment, and she was still injured, as loathe as she was to say it. She needed him, and she was going to do everything in her power to prove that she was capable of getting things done.

Almost imperceptibly, she tightened her grip on his shoulder. If Ingway noticed, he didn't respond.

It didn't take very long for them to arrive at the building after they emerged from the words. Though it was obvious how late it was getting. Ingway only grunted as he let Mercedes down to punch in the code to open the doors. He made a note that she was still limping, but was probably improving, at least a little.

Ingway pushed the doors open for her, and revealed a completely generic abandoned factory, though clearly used for storage, now. Boxes were everywhere, shoved against the walls to towering heights, each labeled somewhere with, _Cauldron Medical Manufactures, w_hich was most assuredly the company he worked for. But he didn't really pay much attention to it. After all, they were a fairly big name; from what reading he had done about it.

"We don't usually sleep here," Mercedes explained, sitting down against one of the far walls, "So there are no cots or blankets. I am sorry about that, but I think travelling at night would be a bad idea."

Ingway nodded, taking off his labcoat. There hadn't been enough time for him to bother with it beforehand, "Take this. It's not much, but at least you'll have something to wrap up in."

She looked up at him (in awe?), but mostly in confusion, "But… what about you?"

"I'm a grown man, Mercedes, I'll be fine."

And with that, she accepted his coat from him, with a smile and a, "Thank you."

Her mother had taught her constant vigilance. At the end of the day, she was the daughter of the head of the Ringford Family. Despite the pretenses of others, there was certainly always someone who was out to kill her. But this man had helped her, ever though it would have been so much easier to kill her while she was down. He was now even offering her the clothes off his back. And honestly, Mercedes didn't understand why.

By the time she looked up again, Ingway was already in the process of sitting down next to her, arms crossed and generally looking stern.

"Is there… something wrong?"

In reality, he was trying to figure out the association between Mercedes' apparently dangerous lifestyle and the company he'd worked for for so many years. It might have just been that they abandoned this factory before Mercedes' mother had taken it over, but Ingway couldn't get over the nagging feeling that there was something more to it than that. But when he heard his voice, he only shook his head.

"No, it's nothing. We should probably sleep near each other though, just in case something does happen. It would probably afford more protection for the both of us."

Mercedes blushed and looked away.

"Not like_ that!" _ Ingway amended.

"No no no, I understand, i-it's just that, um," She decided to simply stop talking and roll over, swaddling herself in his coat in the process. "G-Good night," she mumbled.

"Good night, princess," He said, only half-sarcastically. For some reason, the pet name seemed appropriate for her.

In her willingness to fall asleep, she didn't even protest to the name, and instead fell asleep with a soft, fading blush across her cheeks.

* * *

They both awoke to the jarring noise at the door. Huge, sleep-interrupting crashes that did not stop the first, second, or third time.

Mercedes, for one, looked terrified. Nobody was supposed to know about this place, that was why they had this storage facility in the middle of nowhere! (They were not nearly as close to the city as Ingway believed.) And it wasn't as if monstrous creature who could make sounds like that often roamed around this area.

As for Ingway, his first instinct was to look at his watch. Five in the morning, ugh. It wasn't as though he wasn't used to being awake at any hour of the night, but he had walked quite a ways since the day had begun, and as embarrassing as it might have been to admit it, Ingway wasn't really used to that much physical effort.

It wasn't until he looked at Mercedes' expression that it occurred to him to panic. This clearly was not supposed to be happening.

She knew that that was the only exit, and she also knew that whatever it was outside wasn't going to stop for a very long time.

"Ingway," she suddenly said, "I'm out of bullets."

Ingway stared at her in disbelief. What kind of admittance was that?

"Whatever is out there, I'm not going to be able to shoot it."

Well, shit.

It was at that moment the doors, as two-feet-thick as ever, suddenly crashed inward, careening across the floor to reveal a fairly average-sized man at the doorway.

_Well, shit._

He had a sword in his hand, glowing at the tip, but other than that, his appearance wasn't anything noteworthy, though it was fairly obvious that only he could have broken down the doors to the factory.

'Hide hide hide,' was the only thought that both Mercedes and Ingway had in their minds, and fortunately the boxes made a fairly decent hiding spot, though staying still and silent was suddenly the most difficult thing either of them had ever done. Since when did muscles twitch when you weren't even moving? Since when did breathing sound like a truck engine revving up?

These questions were left unanswered as the man nonchalantly walked down the empty space where the boxes had already been shoved against the walls.

It was at this point that Ingway noticed there was a kind of tunnel the stacks of boxes made, straight through them. It was large enough for Mercedes to crawl through, but there was a high probability that Ingway would get stuck and topple the whole thing over if he tried. There was only one solution to this problem.

He motioned for Mercedes to move, and she tried, really tried, to silently protest. But even if Ingway had noticed, he was already gone, out in the open, facing the back of this young man. He had never taken softer steps in his entire life.

Mercedes scrambled to reach the other end of the tunnel, and it almost looked as though they were going to make it out without the man noticing before Mercedes heard a crash, and all the color drained from her face.

The man had noticed Ingway.

He lunged forward, bringing his sword down and making a crack in the cement they were both standing on. Ingway thanked the powers that be for being light enough on his feet that that particular blow didn't kill him.

"You are Ingway," said the young man. It wasn't a question; it was an affirmation. And Ingway figured that even if he tried to protest, he'd probably die anyway. But even so, he was ready to run at a moment's notice.

Another blow came, this one from the side. Ingway backed up as fast as he could, and for some reason, he still wasn't dead.

"Answer my question," he spoke again, the tone in his voice as devoid of emotion or inflection as the first time. What did this guy want? A conversation?!

The third swing came, and Ingway noticed a moment too late that he had not moved enough. He closed his eyes tightly, bracing himself for the inevitable removal of his arm, and the sword hit him squarely in the shoulder.

What was strange, though, was the fact that it was the broad side of the blade that had hit him.

When Ingway opened his eyes, he saw the man clutching at his eye, doubled over in pain, with his teeth clenched in an attempt not to scream. And for a moment, Ingway had no idea what to do.

"Ingway! Come on!" Mercedes yelled from the doorway before starting to run herself. It didn't take very long for Ingway to catch up.

They ran and ran, into the woods, which seemed to afford more protection than a proper building. They had to keep moving, lest that man suddenly decide he wasn't as injured as he previously believed.

Either way, the both collapsed into a heap after a while.

"I thought," Ingway huffed, trying to catch his breath, "You were out of bullets."

"I was," Mercedes said, equally out of oxygen, "I hope you weren't too attached to that scalpel in your pocket. "

"H-How in the world did you…"

"I've got a pretty good swing."

Ingway just laughed. What in the world was he doing? Gallivanting around with a knife-throwing, gun-toting little girl, having attempts on his life by guys with swords, and running, so much running.

It was the most excitement he'd ever had, and he was pretty sure that not many people had stories to tell like his, now. So much for his life being boring.

"No," he said after he stopped laughing, "I guess I wasn't much attached to that scalpel at all."


	5. In Which Mercedes Talks with Prostitutes

I figured it's about time to answer some questions?

Ingway is 23. Mercedes and Ingway will probably have more of a brotherly-sisterly relationship than a romantic one. Gwen is totes showing up, probably in the next chapter. Mercedes is a bit more determined in this story than in the game, at least in the beginning. So I hope she's at least recognizable as Mercedes, I don't really know how to rectify it at this point.

Thanks for your comments on this weird story thus far! I hope this chapter still measures up! And, on that topic, here's some swearing and... uh, situations in this chapter! They talk about prostitution! Consider this your warning!

Sorry it took so long to update, too! I'm not very good at churning this stuff out. xD;

--

**In Which Mercedes Talks with Prostitutes**

--

Oswald was loathe to admit his failures, but he was never one to hide the truth, either, especially from Melvin. But as he approached his door, he decided he should probably wait until the man got off the phone with whomever he was talking to before he had to admit to anything.

Though it was no excuse for Oswald's failure, Melvin's explanation of the task he was supposed to undertake was lacking at best. He seemed certain that the man, Ingway, had to die. But he also wanted information out of him, and it wasn't as though Ingway could tell him anything if he were dead. Capturing him was also mentioned, but Oswald had no idea what took priority. And as such, the two of them had gotten away. It was shameful, but it had happened. Fortunately, the two of them weren't very good at covering their trails, and Oswald would be able to find them again without too much trouble.

As he practiced what he would say to the closest thing he had to a father figure, he couldn't help but overhear the half-conversation that was happening beyond the door.

"Yes, I recognize the rivalry we've had up until this point..." Melvin said with that austere tone that never really left his voice, "No, I don't believe... there are those that will remain loyal. ...Well, of course."

But as that conversation went on, Melvin seemed less and less inclined to use the benevolent lilt he had begun with, "Yes. Fine. I'll send someone."

And while he didn't want to give a report to Melvin when he was as aggravated as he sounded, he knew he would have no other choice when he heard the phone slam back down on the receiver. He allowed a few moments to pass, hoping that would be enough to calm the man down, before he knocked on the door.

"Come in," Melvin said curtly, and Oswald drew himself up to his full height before walking in.

"Ah, Oswald," Melvin said, and though his voice softened, his expression didn't change all that much, "You're to go to the Ragnanival District."

Oswald couldn't help but balk for a moment. The Ragnanival District was one of the most dangerous places in the whole City of Erion. Famous for prostitutes that would slit your throat as soon as look at you, and the man that every prostitution ring led back to, the famed, rich, and powerful, Odin Ragnanival. Rumor had it that even his daughters were members of his rings.

Oswald was not one to disobey direct orders, but this was a bit much for even him. But he steeled himself and asked, without his voice breaking once, "What for?"

"What else? You'll be meeting with Odin in my stead. His place is impossible to miss. We'll be attempting to form some sort of alliance with him, so I will expect you to be on your best behavior."

"If I could ask, sir... why me?"

Melvin grimaced, and already Oswald regretted asking the question, "He does not wish to speak with me, and I feel you are trustworthy enough to understand the importance of an alliance with him. Regardless, I will be busy with transferring things here."

"What... what should I say to him?"

"Don't stutter, it's unseemly," Melvin quickly corrected him, "You see, I'm not to give you direction. Mostly, he wants to understand the power that you have... which is another reason why it would be good to send you."

Oswald examined his feet. It was common for people to have some shame in their past, but not usually in one as young as Oswald. By most accounts, Oswald knew, he should be dead. It was only thanks to the people at Odette, and _Cauldron_, that he could even function at all. It was also the source of the power Melvin was referring to.

"Go now, get out of here," Melvin said, shaking his head. Oswald knew that he was frustrated with this turn of events, but he still felt that he should give some kind of report on the last mission he had been sent on.

"Sir, about that Ingway person..." He began.

"I don't care. This takes precedence."

Oswald nodded, and moved to leave the room, feeling just a little victorious.

"Oh, and Oswald?"

He stopped, mid-stride and turned around, dreading whatever addition Melvin had to add. But what could really make being set to the haven of murderous prostitutes any worse?

"You're bleeding through your bandages. Fix that before you go."

He breathed a sigh of relief, nodded a, "Yes, sir," and flew out of the room as fast as he could, without giving Melvin time to decide that he really did want to know what had happened to the girl and Ingway.

---

The girl and Ingway had made it to the city, after much more trial-and-error than either of them would have liked. The woods had been Mercedes' home even more so than the city itself, but encroaching upon the suburbs was something neither of them had ever done. It was either inside the city or out, but the in-between space wasn't even worth mentioning.

And the in-between space had given way to the slums, another part of the city that Mercedes herself was only vaguely familiar with. This was not a part of her mother's turf, and for the most part, they respected territories that were laid out, after all, who really wants to take control of the slums? The Ringford family concerned themselves with the high and mighty, not the dirty and poor.

But regardless, Mercedes knew that this was where she had to be, simply not confronting this man was not an option, not after what he had done to her mother. Not only did his men shoot her, they had stolen the most prized possession of their family, her mother's gold ring. It was a symbol of being the head of the family, and if that man had stolen it... well, Mercedes had managed to find one bullet for her gun.

Ingway, on the other hand, was less certain about this whole situation. After all, he had a thirteen year old girl leading him into the slums of the biggest city in the country. And while he didn't have much of a choice in the matter, what with sword-wielding men and his own boss after his head, he had to stick with someone. Not to mention he sort of felt responsible for this girl now, losing a mother was a horrible experience, and Mercedes' grandfather was nowhere to be found, either.

"We're entering the Ragnanival district," Mercedes explained in her sweet, childish voice, snapping Ingway out of his reverie, "It's kind of a shithole, or at least that's how everyone referred to it."

The cognitive dissonance between her voice and her words almost made Ingway do a double-take, but he admirably resisted, "And... why, pray tell, are we entering this 'shithole'?"

Mercedes groaned, wasn't Ingway listening to her at all? "Because Odin is here, and I have to... talk with him."

She wasn't against trying, at least, but discussing such matters with the man who was known as the "Greatest Pimp What Ever Lived," might not prove to be awfully successful. Mercedes wasn't scared, she had trained all her life to fight, and she knew she would have no trouble outrunning that huge brute. She could outrun anyone.

...Ingway, though. Maybe not. He had kept up with her fairly well ever since her injuries stopped hurting too much, they were already starting to close, though it had taken an awfully long time. She hadn't gotten too much sleep, so she supposed that was probably to blame. She'd never sustained an injury for this long.

As if he were reading Mercedes' mind, Ingway asked, "How are you holding up, princess?"

"Don't call me that," she grumbled first, but then answered his question properly, "I'm fine. I'm not bleeding, and the bullet holes have practically closed up, I think."

And, for whatever reason, Ingway looked startled. He knew that wounds of that caliber didn't heal in... how long had it been? Not even a day? Half a day? What kind of repair system did this girl have going on?

"That's..."

"Huh?" Mercedes expression back to him showed that she had no idea why this was incredible. It was just a wound, of course it would heal up quickly. It wasn't as if she was poisoned or anything.

"Can't you..."

But before the conversation could continue properly, they were stopped by the screeching of two women, both in short, feathered miniskirts, and holding knives in their hands.

"Eeeeeh, girlie," the one in brown cawed, waving the knife in Mercedes' direction, with only a hint of violent animosity just under the surface of her gestures, "What's a girlie like you doin' up in here? No place for you, eh?"

"Yer... bro? Dad? Who the fuck are you, anyway? Eh, doesn't matter, he can stay," the one in pink continued, eying Ingway, and winking with her pierced tongue lolling out of her mouth, "We'll show you something good, right?"

Mercedes scooted herself closer to Ingway, suddenly holding onto his hand, "They call themselves Valkyries," she muttered under her breath, unsure if it would matter when the women were so close, "They're Odin's."

"'Course we're Odin's!" the first one twittered, almost cutely, if she didn't have that knife in her hands, "E'rybody's Odin's around here, honey. Yer on his turf, y'know."

Mercedes steeled herself, her expression growing firm and stoic. At least, as much as it could on her cherubic little face. She glanced upwards toward Ingway, but her expression nearly faltered to give way to a defeated sigh when she saw that he was blushing furiously, unable to take his eyes of the womens' prominently displayed assets. Ingway was a man, she knew that but, honestly, this was hardly the time.

"I want to talk with your boss," Mercedes said, shaking the defeated look off of her face and reverting back to seriousness, "Now."

They both cackled in response, "Ya wanna become a little bitty Valkyrie or somethin', hon?" the pink one said through her teeth as she tried to stay her laughter, "Not too many guys comin' into this district want a flatty kid!"

"Now!" Mercedes bellowed, without a hint of that chidish air Ingway was so used to hearing from her, and for a moment, Ingway was sure the two women in front of them looked terrified.

"Eeeeh," the one in brown sighed, clearly not having fun anymore, "Y'don't gotta get all riled up. Boss Odin's taking visitors today, he's such a nice guy like that. Follow us 'er something, I guess."

The two of them bounded away, and Mercedes let go of Ingway's hand to follow them. She was so close, so close to getting back the physical object that represented the honor of her family, and her ability to lead. She was so close. Everything would be better if she just got that ring, everyone would have to finally acknowledge her. And that was the only thought in her mind as her eyes were facing forward, not bothering to make sure that Ingway was close behind.

Which he wasn't.

No, Ingway had been left in the dust of those three females, dazed and confused and in the middle of the Ragnanival district. The only upside was the fact that the sun was still high in the sky, and the real action in this district didn't start until the sun went down. He desperately tried to follow them, and he was feeling stupider and stupider by the minute as his searches turned up nothing. Ingway wasn't bad with directions, he simply needed to have been given them first. And he hadn't. He had been given two probably psychotic women with enormous hips, and a thirteen year old girl who ran away from him.

Not to mention the brush with death the two of them had encountered this morning. Today could have been going better for Ingway.

"Oh, young man, could you spare a moment?" came a voice from behind him, distinctly unfeminine. Slowly, Ingway turned to face the voice, and was shocked by the visage he was met with.

"D-Doctor Urzur?" He exclaimed, but, no after examining the man for a moment, it was clear that this was not the same man, but the resemblance was striking.

"No, son, I'm afraid not. I am called Beldor."

"I'm actually looking for someone right now myself, Beldor. I'm sorry, I don't think I'll be of much use to you," Ingway said, attempting to brush off the old man. That was what you were supposed to do when you encounter strange people in the city, or at least that was what he thought he had heard somewhere.

This Beldor shook his head, and waved a grizzled finger in Ingway's direction, "Ah, you see, though, that's where you are wrong. You'll be of great assistance to me, I imagine."

With that, Beldor raised his hands, and the buildings around them began to rumble. Despite the tremors that made his body lurch, Ingway only just managed to keep himself upright, "What in the!?"

But before he could finish the exclamation, bricks and pavement cracked, collapsing all around Ingway as he covered his head in an attempt to come out of this situation alive, and without a concussion. The next time he opened them, the world was deadly quiet and black, making Ingway wonder for a moment if he had gone deaf, or if he had actually died.

Death felt an awful lot like lying in rubble.


End file.
